


Gift-giving

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Emperor is working, but his pet wants his attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift-giving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts), [Themes_of_November](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themes_of_November/gifts).



Emperor Dameron sits in his chair, flicking through the latest reports and projections. He makes gestures through the air: dismissing the irrelevant, flagging the irregular. There’s a lot to get through, and he’s already bored. Some days you just do not want to be bothered with the flimsiwork, but no one had ever told him being the Emperor of a vast and efficient empire would be easy.

He disliked the bureaucracy, of course, but he knew why he did it: for Kylo. His beloved Knight had been too long shackled to one Force-sensitive Master or another, and he’d been crumbling under their vindictive rule. This was a necessary evil, a sacrifice he’d chosen to make.

Of course, the reason for his sacrifice sometimes made it hard to keep his attention focussed. Like now, when Kylo quite obviously wanted his attention. He’d entered and waited to be acknowledged, and Poe had told him he was busy and needed another hour, but he was welcome to come rest with him.

Which Kylo had done. Sort of. He’d come to kneel gracefully by his feet, head resting against his lap, mask still on until told to remove it. Poe liked to slide his fingers under the rear of the helm, to tease the loose strands of hair looser, still, and to push his fingers under the black, stiff collar. The edging through his barriers to the hidden self below was pleasing to Poe, and usually made Kylo purr with delight. Right now, though, Kylo simply accepted the touches without any outward sign of happiness. It wasn’t as if he was _unhappy_ (Poe could always tell) but he was _restless_ , and fighting his worse nature to behave.

Obedience and calm did not come easily to Kylo Ren. He had been impulsive since they met, and Poe normally had to be the one to put his foot down. Except for those occasions where Poe was _just_ as impulsive, but that normally was when he was behind the controls of a ship, or in the middle of a battle, or… occasionally when they were so deep into a scene that he just **had** to go a little mad. He always tried to keep one foot in sanity around Kylo, though, aware that he had a responsibility to do so.

But Kylo had found some measure of peace and relief in following his order and command. Poe liked to think it was because he - unlike the _anathema_ that was the Skywalker bastard, or the **Rancor-piss** that was the so-called Leader Snoke - unlike _those_ people, Poe had Kylo’s best interests at heart. He didn’t rule or use him for any agenda other than their mutual happiness, and Kylo blossomed under his hand like a beautiful flower: delicate beauty behind the thorns, just waiting for the right hand to cultivate him to bloom and allow a tongue to taste his sweet nectar. 

Kylo continues to wait, and Poe knows it is important to keep the boundary there, but also show compassion. His pet is trying, and when he looks down to the Knight: kneeling, hands palm-up, head bowed - he smiles. Beautiful tension in his posture, the need to behave and the need to _do_. Such Light in with his Dark.

When he finishes the most urgent of his reports (the rest could safely wait) he reaches down to hook his finger under Kylo’s muzzling plate, the soft leather that hide his beautiful lips from the world, that keep his voice for Poe’s ears alone. His pet looks up at once, and he knows the expression, even without seeing it.

“You wanted my attention, pet?”  


“Yes, Master,” Kylo agrees. “I have… a gift for you. If you would like it.”  


Oh, interesting. Normally Poe was the one to bestow gifts, but that wasn’t because of any rule. He suspects Kylo normally felt too nervous for it, so it was a good sign that he’d begun to reciprocate. He smiles widely, encouraging this behavioural change. “I would love it.”

“Please, Master?” Kylo slides a foot behind him, indicating he wishes to stand.   


Poe nods, and caresses the mask one last time before letting go. “With my blessing, Kylo.”

He watches as his Knight rises gracefully, a dip of his head. The room Poe is working from adjoins their private chambers, and is the one he prefers when he doesn’t need to give audience to any staff. Here, he can dispense his duties and retire quickly when he wishes to. Kylo walks briskly into their rooms, and is gone for long moments. Poe wonders what’s going on, and he swivels his chair around to face the empty, open doorway.

A few rustles later, and then his beloved appears in the doorway. He’d got him his first outfit a few months ago and they’d both enjoyed it, but apparently Kylo wants (as ever) to go one-up in showmanship and theatrics. Poe smiles, and laughs.

His beloved Knight has clamped pale, gold-metal accents all around his body. The metal looks sturdy and highly polished, just begging for thumb-prints or tongue-swipes to mar the perfect patina. Around his ankles are heavy cuffs with rings, and between the two lies a thick, nicely-curbed chain that sways but doesn’t quite touch the floor. He wouldn’t be able to part his legs wider than shoulder-width like that. His pale legs are bare after that, but around his cock is a gorgeous cage that curls down and between his legs, before clamping around his balls. He wouldn’t be able to get properly hard in it, or not _up_ , anyway. Poe smiles. He suspects there will be a plug inside, too. Kylo wore one most days, for the last few hours, anyway. Around his wrists are two more heavy cuffs, and again the curbed links between them. His nipples stand proud of his chest, pinched to attention by little butterfly clips joined with a narrower-gauge link. That would be ideal for his mouth, he thinks. Bite and tug, and make him moan. Up and up to his neck, where his throat is kept from bending by a deep posture collar. It was a sin and a gift, both, because Poe loved to bite his neck, but he also liked the idea of him being bound and unable to move his head too much. It could always come _off_ , like the cage and the plug. 

Then, in his mouth… Poe squints. There’s a fine circlet of similarly sunkissed metal, and he realises it’s a crown of sorts. There’s a semi-circle with interwoven, traced leaves in filigree. 

Kylo drops to his knees, and crawls towards him. The chains _shisssh_ against the floor, and he pauses and comes to a halt in front of him. Back to sitting on his haunches, head bowed, hands upright on his knees. 

“You may,” Poe says, delighted.   


His Knight rises, and drops the circlet into his own hands. He leans in and gently places it onto Poe’s head, careful of his ears, mindful of his curls. He adjusts it slightly, then kneels back down.

“Does it please you, my Lord?”  


“It pleases me _greatly_ , my love.”  


Kylo smiles, and ducks his head - or as much as the posture collar will allow. “There is one other thing…”

“Oh?”  


“I have… I have been looking into the duties of a good pet, Master. And I thought, perhaps…?”  


Poe’s curious, now. They have quite a varied and involved sex-life as it is, but he won’t object to further complicating it. He nods, “Go on.”

“May I demonstrate?”  


“You have my permission, pet.”  


Kylo leans over to his holo-pad, tapping some buttons, then rises back to his respectful, standing position as music starts to play. A low, thrumming beat with faster instruments overlaid. The rhythm is a little faster than a heartbeat, and he smiles. He’s not sure what Kylo has in mind, but he’s willing to see. 

What he doesn’t expect is for his Knight to suddenly start to sway. Kylo has always been self-conscious about his body (his height, his looks, his strength, his skin, his scars), and getting him to feel at home in it is sometimes difficult. The dance starts at his hips, his weight shifting subtly around, the chains making the action more visible. His hands stay down by his sides, his head held proud in the collar, and Poe sees how this makes him uncomfortable. There’s pink in his face, as he doesn’t dare look down to see if Poe approves of his dancing, his breathing shallow, chest making the chain there dance with his almost-panicked breath.

“Beautiful,” he enthuses, softly. He needs Kylo to know this is more than okay, and it really is. It might be awkward, but the feeling behind it is absolutely pure and loving, and Poe is touched by this gift of him.  


Because that’s what Kylo normally gives him: himself. He surrenders his body and his heart, his will and his self. He offers Poe the thing most precious to himself, and he does so time and time again. Poe normally is the one to push Kylo up against the edges of his discomfort, to glide him against the raw, rough side of his soul… but he is here, offering. He is offering, and Poe is rapt.

His beloved Knight lifts his hands, the chains slinking just behind. He keeps the thread across his throat, and puts his hands into his long, silky hair. Kylo’s eyes are closed, his long lashes stark, dark against his cheeks, his lips pursed in concentration. The man pushes fingers through his hair, making the chain slide over the collar, and Poe sits forwards. He hooks his finger in the ring for the collar, holding him still and unfastening it. The offer is nice, but he wants to see the metal across his throat even more.

Kylo swallows, and he throws his head back and against the chain again. He lightly garottes himself, gulping as the chain bites in and he lifts up onto his toes. The arch of his back is a sin in and of itself, and Poe’s hands long to touch some more, but this is not about that, not yet. 

The movement travels down through his lover, the sinews of the song making his body describe perfect swirls: a ripple like a silk ribbon whipped through the air. The chains sway against his movement, the rise-and-fall of pendulum movement as he slowly spins around, letting Poe see all he owns. There are some fading bruises from their last lovemaking trailing a path he wants to rush down again, but no. Wait. He must be patient, too. Kylo’s pert butt holds a brightly jewelled plug between his cheeks, and Poe is going to enjoy removing that, later. His own cock swells with pride and love, and then Kylo _moves_.

And Poe’s really taken aback, because he has a lap full of Dark Jedi. He’s kneeling astride him, and he lowers his hands behind Poe’s head, pulling them back and catching the chain behind Poe’s neck. He’s captivated, watching this ethereal beauty: half power and poise, half fragile and delicate. The juxtaposition of the two makes him salivate, and his hands are stilled in their grip on his seat.

The music continues, and Kylo’s dance means he lifts and brushes lightly over Poe’s groin. The contact is light and delicious, a promise more than anything else. His unclothed skin burns so hot when it glances over the fabric of his pants, and Poe decides this is his favourite present so far. It’s not his birthday, so he wonders what he’s done to deserve this? Whatever it is, he’s hooked. He smiles in frank and open appreciation, then meets Kylo’s eyes as they peer from under heavy lids. Poe asks a question and receives a yes, and he takes the chain across Kylo’s throat between his teeth. He tugs very lightly, making the clamps on his nipples tug the sensitive nubs. Kylo hisses, and drops his head forwards. Poe feels the hair around him, and smiles as he continues his loving worship, even if from afar.

Kylo leans in, and Poe can see how the cage around his prick is killing him, and he doesn’t want him to suffer any more. He reaches for the clasps, unhooking and tossing the jewellery to one side, letting his cock flush full and proud. It swells in his hand, and he starts to stroke him slowly, root to tip, root to tip. His fingers pinch a path up to the head, and then he worries the spot just under the crown, making him pant and moan.

“Master…”  


“Gonna fuck you so hard, my Knight,” he says, letting the chain fall from his lips to look up at him. “Keep dancing.”  


Poe wraps his hand around his shaft, then, and keeps it still. Only the swaying, sashaying of his lover’s hips gives him any friction, and he sees him bite his lip in frustrated need. The Emperor wraps his other arm around to find the plug, nudging and pushing at the external plate until he can get his fingers underneath it. Kylo won’t last long if he pulls and tugs too long with it, so he simply pushes it one last, long time in before he rips it out and throws it to one side.

Kylo’s hole is thus open to the world, exposed and wanting. He knows the air will gust into him, and Poe shoves two - no - three fingers in to find how ready he is. The answer is: very. 

Their eyes meet, and Kylo smiles. “For you,” he says, and bounces in time to the music, fucking himself fiercely on those fingers. “All for you.”

“Open my pants,” Poe orders.  


Kylo lifts his hands up and over, putting them lower to do as he’s told. It’s a little difficult with a hand on his own prick, but he’s nothing if not dedicated. Poe lets go of Kylo’s dick and slips his fingers out of his hole. He puts both hands on his waist, and arches to kiss his throat.

“Keep dancing, pet.”  


His Knight does, finding Poe’s cock and bringing it out to the air. He holds it still and then there’s a soft, warm wriggle until he’s bearing into him. Kylo’s body welcomes him in, and Poe feels like home inside of him. He loves his Kylo, he does, and if they never did this again he would survive… but _damn_ is he happy they both want it. He’s the luckiest man in the galaxy.

Kylo swallows him whole, and the penetration is easy and sure, just like their love. He keeps his hands on his waist, and moans as his beloved tenses around him. It feels good, and good when he continues to dance. Kylo’s hands are back in his hair, and he smiles up at him.

“Kiss me,” he commands, and his Knight does.  


Slowly, at first. Little feathery kisses, like when they first learned how to love one another. Shy, loving touches. He remembers how cautious his Kylo had been, back then; how he’d been terrified and wanting, all in one. How they’d learned how to be together, in the dark, in secret. A pilot and his Knight, run away to war together. They’d been barely more than children, when they’d fallen, and fallen hard. 

Kylo’s hands in his hair are caring, and the kisses heat up, like their passion had. Fierce mouthings, lips tugged and pulled and growls of animal lust over soul-deep love. He opens his mouth to the swipe of tongue, sucks it into his mouth and teases him, lets him fuck his face with his own. His hands urge their dance faster, lift and drop his lover down onto his waiting loins. They never part, never break the contact, and Poe guides him into more of a curve, so he can get deeper in with every drop down onto his lap.

The kisses need room for breathing between, and he follows up by moving to lick over Kylo’s bare throat. The collar was pretty, but collars never last long around Poe. A hand curled in the leash, and his teeth long to sink into him far too much for the promise of it to last. He bites his love-letters into his throat, and Kylo’s purrs deepen the nips, make them closer, there, too.

He loves him, oh he loves him so much. This won’t last, and they both know it. The song weaves on, but Poe can’t hold back forever. He slides an arm around his lower back, the other around his shoulders - and Kylo _knows_. Up and out of the chair and onto the floor, landing lightly thanks to the Force, Kylo on his back and Poe between his thighs. Kylo guides them down, and he lifts his legs to wrap around Poe’s waist. This angle is better for taking, and Poe speeds his thrusts up accordingly. He tries his best to hit his beloved pet’s prostate with each thrust, and from the blissed-out look on his face, he’s doing well.

“I love you,” Poe tells him, as he takes him as hard as he can.  


“I love you, too, Master,” his Knight tells him, mouth lax with his smile. His eyes are gone, and Poe can tell he’s drifting into that other place. That deeper place, the one he goes to when they do this just _right_.  


There isn’t even any pain, right now. No pain, and hardly any control. Sometimes it just _happens_ , and Poe cherishes those easy moments most of all. It’s how he knows he’s doing this _right_. Kylo’s fingers are barely touching him, ghosting through his curls, and his body is so at peace and love-tense at once. Poe knows he won’t even need to touch him, not when he’s this far under. Just the endless slide through his hole, the pressure inside, the nudge to his happy place within his walls and Kylo’s moaning in broken ecstasy. He comes like that, untouched, and Poe watches his cock spurt with every. Single. Thrust. Home. 

It’s so wonderful, and Poe smiles so wide his face almost hurts as he comes, too. It’s a blurry, warm climax - not a sharp, metal one. His balls ache hotly as they tense and empty, and he fills his pet up, the white, sticky trails leaking out over his inner thighs.

Then they’re done, and they’re curled up together on the floor, and this is not the best place to do it, but he doesn’t care. Poe holds his Kylo against him, and kisses everywhere he can.

“I love you,” he whispers, against his ear.  


“I love you, too.”  


His circlet crown slips slightly, and he grins, nuzzling at Kylo’s jaw. “You always were a sucker for symbolism.”

Kylo doesn’t reply, just smiles wider. They both know it’s true.


End file.
